Today's answer, Tomorrow's question
by Kailiata
Summary: During the search for the horcruxes, Harry walks through hiss deepest fears in his dreams.  Quick oneshot so please read and review!


**I found this on my computer half finished and decided that it was too good an idea to let it rot. It's a bit bizarre but I had fun writing it. Please review and tell me what you think!**

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><p>It must have been midnight because as Harry walked the corridors of Hogwarts, silence followed him. There was only the metallic sound of his footsteps as he crept quietly around each corner. There was no light but the harsh glow of his wand leading the way. As he turned a sudden corner he found himself at a large oak door with dull brass handles. There were large swirling carvings trailing up and down the wood, occasionally they moved and changed, as though they were performing acrobatics. It did not enter Harry's head that there had never been a door like this at Hogwarts before as he turned the handle and pushed.<p>

That a new door had appeared should have been strange enough but that it lead onto the Quidditch pitch should have at once put Harry's mind on guard. Yet still he walked forward. Each of Harry's senses seemed to awaken one at a time. First his ears as he heard the tinkling and melodic sound of nursery rhymes. Then his nose as the overwhelming smell of sweet food, mud and smoke surrounded him. His taste came next as the sickly taste of candyfloss and rain tickled his tastebuds. Finally, his eyes focused and he could feel the nip of the night air on his body.

He looked at the sight in front of him and for the first time that night felt some alarm. For set up on the quidditch pitch, lights and music blaring, was the largest circus Harry had ever seen.

He rubbed his eyes but the image remained and suddenly a sense of fear entered him. Something was extremely wrong.

He felt himself pushed though the gates by an oncoming crowd and reluctantly, he made his way towards the chaos. Stood in the middle of four large, multicoloured tents, he debated on which way to go as he could no longer see where he had come in. As the sound of music entered his ears, he followed the sound and ended up stood in a large crowd surrounding a man, hunched over in a cloak, playing a flute. The music was enchanting and haunting, sending shivers all down Harry's spine. He was about to turn away when out of the tent behind the man came a dancer. She was dressed from head to toe in bright shades of yellow and orange and her arms and feet jangled with hundreds of tiny bells and bangles. Her hair was long and blonde and it hung in loops around her ears with parts of it escaping and trailing down her back. She was carrying a tambourine and in the light of the fire next to her, she seemed to glow like the sun. Harry could feel himself being hypnotised as he walked closer. After one final twirl, she stopped suddenly, bobbing into a slight curtsey. The crowd began to disperse and Harry wandered closer. The dancer picked up the tin in which they had been collecting money and disappeared into the tent before returning with a now empty tin.

As she met his eyes, Harry suddenly realised he had been staring.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...'

She walked towards him, the smile still on her lips. Suddenly she stopped, gasping as something held her back and she fell. Instinctively Harry caught her and as she looked up he gasped.

'Luna?'

He had been looking at her for so long, how had he not noticed it was her? Harry shook his head and told himself it was the smoke from the fire that had blocked his view. He was about to speak again but Luna covered his mouth.

'You need to leave, now. Run, go somewhere else.' Her voice had lost it's dreaminess. Instead it was worn and panicky. Harry Looked at her again and noticed that her expression was sad and she looked exhausted, her clothes hung limply on her when at first they had looked beautiful. Luna saw him looking and pushed him away.

'Find Hermione. She can help. Just get away quickly.'

Harry began to walk away bewildered and as Luna tripped again he saw a flash of gold as the chain which was holding her prisoner, restrained her.

He ran, weaving through the crowds until he reached another crossroad, this time four cages stood at the four corners. One by one, Harry scanned them, judging the animals to be a monkey, wolf, dog and a small green creature. Deciding that there must be more to it than that, he turned back around the opposite way, this time seeing the animals in the cages as who they truly were. There was Sirius, Lupin, Dobby and Seamus. All with the same gold chain around their ankles.  
>Harry began to speak to them but as they spoken the only sounds that left their mouths were roars and growls. There was nothing Harry could do so he began to run again, still not sure where he was going.<p>

As he ran he realised something. In a circus, the main attractions were always in the big top.

He ran towards the centre, skirting around a juggler who looked an awful lot like Dean Thomas, the same gold chain around his wrist. With the opening to the tent in sight, Harry ignored his pathway, tripping over a large twisting plant and landing sprawled out across the floor. He felt searing pains where the thorns had torn open his skin but, wiping away the blood dripping from his now split lip, he crawled forwards and under the opening of the tent.

It was dark. So very dark. Smoke and incense were so thick in the air that Harry began to feel light headed. He struggled to his feet and swayed towards a dimly lit table in the centre of the room.

'Your fortune, young man.'

A woman, her face covered by a veil, gestured for him to sit down on a scarlet chair. As their eyes met, Harry knew that she was someone he should recognise but again there was something preventing him from knowing her.

'Ha- Harry...'

For a moment Harry's vision cleared and he could see clearly enough to know that he had found Hermione but that it was hurting her. But that clarity vanished and instead he was staring again at the wide eyed fortuned teller.

'The...'

Tears had begun to drip down the fortune tellers face and as she removed the veil from her face, Harry saw it contort in pain.

'The puppeteer, Harry.'

She stopped to catch her breath and look down to what was causing her pain. Harry followed her gaze and saw deep cuts appearing all over her body, forming words. The very words she was speaking over and over again.

'You need to see the puppeteer.'

With a quick nod, Harry fled, Hermione's screams echoing behind him. He had to get out. In a panic he ran into the hedgerow but like claws it gripped and pulled at him, forcing him

backwards. He had no choice, he had to do as Hermione had said.

He ran as fast as he could because no matter what, he had to escape this place and save his friends. But no matter how hard he ran, he always ended up in front of one tent. His clothes were damp with sweat and his knees were shaking with exhaustion. His hands and face were cut from his attempts to fight though the hedges to freedom.

It was the last tent on his journey and Harry had never been so scared of what he would find.

Feeling as though the wind was forcing him inside, he pulled back the curtain covering the entrance and stepped inside.

The lighting was dim and the smell was putrid. Shelves that covered every scrap of space within the tent were filled from floor to ceiling with naked, faceless puppets, their hands draped by their sides and their heads at neck-breaking angles.

Harry took four steps forward, turned right and took another five steps forwards, ending up right back where he had started.

Frustrated, he punched at one of the shelves, finding his hand passing straight through it. Taking a deep breath, he allowed the rest of himself to follow his hand and ended up in a dark, candle lit and damp room. Flopped against one of the walls were two blank puppets. As Harry drew closer the puppets began to change and grow features. Dark unruly hair and round black glasses identified one puppet as James Potter whilst the other, with red hair and green eyes was Lily. Harry slowed as with each step the puppets seemed to grow more like his parents. As their image became complete, their hands began to rise as though tied to strings. Their heads still lolled downwards as they rose, only looking up as Harry was stood directly in front of them.

Harry looked from one puppet parent to the other as slowly their wooden mouths opened and they began to scream. Harry looked around the room frantically for the cause of their fear but just suddenly as the screaming had started, it stopped. Harry turned to look back at the puppets just in time to see them crumple back to the ground in a heap without a single one of the features that had identified them remaining.

In a blur more and more puppets appeared and died, Cedric and Sirius among them.

In a sudden flash the room was once again empty save for a single puppet. Repeating his steps in a daze, Harry stumbled towards the figure, watching as a long grey beard grew from its chin.

The hands rose, the eyes opened and the mouth screamed as the puppet went lifeless and Dumbledore was dead. It was with a sick feeling that Harry realised that the stream of puppets was not ending and that they were reaching closer and closer to the present day.

Again the room he was in disappeared and a new one formed. This room contained ten puppets lined up against the wall. Knowing what was about to happen, Harry marched towards the line up, determined to get this over with.

He stopped dead as he noticed the first feature to appear on each of the puppets heads.

Red hair.

This was the Weasley family and at the end, a puppet which could only be identified as Hermione.

In his head he refused to go any further but his feet kept going. No matter how hard he told himself that he didn't want to know, his legs continued to march.

They finally stopped right in front of the ten puppets. Harry was able to identify each puppet as a member of the Weasley family without much trouble which was probably what caused him to start to panic as the dolls began to rise to their feet. Scanning as quickly as he could from one side to the other, Harry silently prayed that none of their strings would be cut.

He gasped as Bills puppet suddenly was covered in a million scratches but remained standing and then again as he heard the clunk of George's ear as it hit the floor, leaving a gaping space on the side of the puppet's face.

Harry's heart began to beat ever faster as slowly the puppets sank to the ground, starting with Arthur. He felt his heart slowing down as one by one each of the puppets were lowered, their mouths closed and their strings in tact. Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy. Harry felt his heart once again beat faster as the order reached the Weasleys he was closest to. Then as if to taunt him, the puppets paused and began to drop from the other end. As Hermione, Ginny, Ron and George dropped safely to the ground Harry began to relax. He glanced finally at Fred, expecting him to drop. Harry's face contorted to one of puzzlement when he did not and then one of horror as Fred's mouth began to open. Harry tried to rush forwards but felt himself restrained. He looked down to see the same chains that had bound his friends around his own ankles. Frustrated tears fell as Fred's scream filled the air and his strings were cut. He fell to the ground, every single aspect of him disappearing in a instant.

No matter how hard Harry tried, he could only cry out as the Weasley puppets faded and he was in another room.

It was much larger. That was the first thing Harry noticed. And it wasn't silent. There was the steady sound of a clock ticking coming from somewhere. It was also light, extremely light. To his right, there was a large pile of what looked like chopped up wood. As he floated closer, Harry realised with a sick feeling that they were once again puppets. One by one he recognised them. First his parents then others. Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Mad Eye, Lavender Brown, Dobby, Dumbledore and some he didn't even recognise. As slowly he saw the faces of those who had not yet died amongst those he had, he felt tears begin to stream down his cheeks.

'I never meant for them to die.'

He said it to no one because he thought there was no one to hear.

'They died for you. To save you. To defeat me. It's tragic really.'

Harry turned towards the voice that had haunted his nightmares for as long as he could remember. He wanted to fight, but he had no wand and could not move.

Voldemort was bent over a table, the sound Harry had thought was a clock was actually the steady sound of a hammer. Voldemort placed the hammer down on the table and turned, his hand holding the controls of a wooden puppet which was dangling lifelessly.

Knowing the way this strange world worked, Harry walked towards the puppet. At first, when the hair and glasses emerged, Harry thought it was his father again. But as he drew closer, he accepted the fact he had always known. This puppet was himself and he was in the hands of Voldemort. Harry looked into the snakelike eyes of Voldemort who smiled back gleefully as he pulled out a pair of scissors from his cloak and began to cut the strings one by one.

Harry woke up crying and sweating, still in the tent with Ron and Hermione. As Hermione began to question him, he found he couldn't answer. For a dream that had been so vivid, he could remember none of it. He couldn't help wondering what would have changed, what he might have understood if he had remembered it.


End file.
